


There’s a Reason London Puts Barriers on The Rails

by ERR0R_NotFound



Series: Lily writes MCYT angst [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author Projecting onto Wilbur Soot, Emotional Hurt No Comfort, He throws himself off a bridge instead, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I cried the entire time while writing this, I feel like I owe Tommy an apology for traumatizing him, I guess that's obvious, I was really going through it when I wrote this, I wrote this while Listening to Saline Solution, I wrote this while listening to Jubilee Line, I wrote this while listening to Your City Gave Me Asthma, I'm Sorry, It's all hurt, Maybe I'm not sure, NO COMFORT ONLY PAIN, Pain, Suicide, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur is dead, author is sad, but he doesn't get one, derealization ?, have I made it clear yet, mentioned self harm, read notes for tws, sobs, tommy is traumatized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERR0R_NotFound/pseuds/ERR0R_NotFound
Summary: "Anyone who knew Wilbur could tell you that he was a happy person. He had a good job, great friends, a wonderful community, and overall seemed very content with his life. If you were to ask Wilbur, he’d tell you the same thing. That he was happy. But, no one knew that it was all a mask. A lie. A performance that he put on for the world to see. He was the actor, and they were the audience. Watching his every move for flaws and mistakes. And the second the curtain drops, so does that mask. The minute that he’s alone, everything comes crashing down."AKAWilbur is struggling a lot with mental health, but is in denial and refuses to open up to anyone and pretends to be okay. One, cold, night, he finds himself on a bridge.AKA x2Author is projecting onto Wilbur Soot (Sorry Wilbur).
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, referenced Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson & TommyInnit & Quackity
Series: Lily writes MCYT angst [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203068
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	There’s a Reason London Puts Barriers on The Rails

**Author's Note:**

> TW // SUICIDE, DEREALIZATION (? it's just Wilbur wondering if anything is even real/if everything is a dream for a while, it's a reoccurring thing throughout the story), IMPLIED/REFERENCED SELF-HARM, I think that's it
> 
> **IF I MISSED ANY PLEASE LET ME KNOW**
> 
> Title from Jubilee Line by Wilbur Soot

Anyone who knew Wilbur could tell you that he was a happy person. He had a good job, great friends, a wonderful community, and overall seemed very content with his life. If you were to ask _Wilbur_ , he’d tell you the same thing. That he was happy. But, no one knew that it was all a mask. A lie. A performance that he put on for the world to see. He was the actor, and they were the audience. Watching his every move for flaws and mistakes. And the second the curtain drops, so does that mask. The minute that he’s alone, everything comes crashing down.

So far, everyone seemed to believe that nothing was wrong. He was almost proud that he was able to put on such a good disguise that fooled everyone, as twisted as it is. But, it was exhausting. So, very, exhausting. To put on a show, a fake performance, every time you show your face to anyone at all. To have to pretend to be okay, to be happy. It wasn’t just on the internet, it was to _everyone._ To friends, to family, to the whole world. No one could know. Not a single soul. He couldn’t let anyone in, not again, he wasn’t going to make that mistake again, that’s how you get hurt.

Wilbur wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up, though. It was getting harder and harder to bottle everything up everyday. Some days, he couldn’t even get out of bed. Receiving messages from his friends asking how he’s doing, but not having the energy to even respond with a single word. He just felt so _drained_ and _hopeless._ He felt bad for ignoring people for up to days at the most, but god he just couldn’t do it. He always had an excuse ready for why he couldn’t respond at the time, but he knew that they would catch on if he kept it up.

  
  
  


Tonight seemed the same as basically every other night, record with Tommy, talk with him and the boys for a little while after, break down when he leaves, add a few more cuts to his wrist, and lay down at a time varying from 2-5 am. It was his normal routine. But for some reason, it seemed to be a thousand times _worse_ than usual. He could hardly focus on the recording, he couldn’t stick around to talk to Tommy, Phil, and Quackity, and god he just felt so terrible. 

Suicidal thoughts weren’t a new thing to Wilbur, not even close to it, but today they were just worse than they’ve ever been in all his years of struggling with them. He could feel the warm tears flood his cheeks as he struggled to gasp for air, a panic attack, nothing new, but again, so much worse than usual. By the time he managed to calm down enough to breathe for the most part, he felt lightheaded and had a horrible headache. He was still crying, but at least he could actually breathe. 

He sat there at his desk for a while, sobbing to himself at how everything was just too much. It hurt. Everything hurt so bad. He wanted it to all stop. He decided he needed some air, and thought that a walk would help him clear his head. He scrubbed his eyes with his sleeves angrily, and got up to put his shoes on. He knew it was cold, but decided not to grab a jacket, hoping the cold would ground him a bit. _‘Maybe I’ll die of hyperthermia too, boy wouldn’t that be lucky..’_ Wilbur chuckled sadly to himself, not even bothering to try and push the thoughts away. He’d given up on that long ago.

Finally, he left his house, locking it behind him. He began walking in a random direction, he wasn’t sure where he was going, but that didn’t matter. _‘Hopefully off the edge of a fucking bridge.’_ He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a hit and blowing the smoke out of his mouth with a sigh. He really needed to stop smoking, but he couldn’t find it in himself to actually care. It was a lot colder than he thought it was, but that didn’t matter. It was fine. He could handle the cold.

He kept walking, sometimes taking random turns. It felt like he was going somewhere, and deep down he had a feeling he knew where. He was humming a song. What was he humming? It sounded familiar. After a moment, he recognized it as one of his own songs, Jubilee Line. Why was he humming such a morbid song? He wasn’t sure, he kept humming it though. It was comforting in a strange way. He’d been walking for well over thirty minutes by now, and he didn’t think he was going to turn back anytime soon. Maybe he’d _never_ turn back. Maybe he’d just walk forever. Maybe he would simply just disappear before he came back. Maybe he’d never make it back at all. Maybe he never even left his house. Maybe this was a dream. Was this a dream? Was any of this real at all? He couldn’t tell.

He looked down at his hands and didn’t recognize them at all. They were so pale, since when was he that pale? They looked malnourished, when was the last time he ate? He couldn’t remember. Suddenly, he was hyper aware of everything around him. The way the wind whistled in his ear, his footsteps on the hard concrete, the little cloud his breath made in front of him, the way his fingers trembled. He was shaking. Why was he shaking? He couldn’t tell if it was the situation or the cold, but assumed it was probably a mix of both. 

The rest of the walk was a blur, he watched himself walk detached from reality. It was well over an hour of walking by the time he reached his destination, and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from clattering. Maybe he should have grabbed a jacket after all.. But now wasn’t the time, he didn’t have time to go back over a stupid jacket. Why didn’t he have time? Did he have to be somewhere on time? He didn’t know. Not that it mattered anyway, letting people down was his thing after all. He finally looked around and took in his surroundings, wondering why he’d stopped.

  
  


Oh..

  
  


_Oh._

  
  


He was on a bridge in his city. A bridge with a reputation. Why was he here? He knew the answer to that, though. He stared out into the water, finding it pretty how the moonlight reflected off of it. It’s funny, really, a place so morbid and horrible, a place where so many lost their battle with mental health, could be so gorgeous. The thought made him chuckle, though he found no amusement in it.

  
  


And here he was, about to lose his battle as well.

  
  


God, it was pathetic, really, he was always seen as a responsible adult, who knew what he was doing, who was happy with his life, but right now, he couldn’t help but feel so lost. He wasn’t happy with his life. He hadn’t been for a very long time. He was finally forced to come to terms with that, after years of being in denial over it. He found it slightly amusing, in a twisted way. Here he was, the ‘ _responsible older brother figure_ ’, trying to run away from his problems. He wasn’t responsible, and he had no idea what he was doing, that couldn’t be more clear now. He wasn’t okay, he hadn’t been for years, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon by the looks of it.

He remembered something. He’d been here before. In this same place, same situation, same time. How did he forget that? And why was everything the exact same? Had it even happened? Was he dreaming right now? Maybe this wasn’t real. Maybe he was going to wake up tomorrow the second he threw himself off that bridge, just to realize it was all fake. But it felt so _real_. Thinking about it for a moment, he realized he’d repressed that memory so deep in denial that he was okay, that he’d tricked himself into forgetting it even happened. Just remembering that night made his head hurt. Why didn’t he do it that night? Was there a reason that stopped him that he’s forgetting now? Is this something that he’s going to regret..? No, he wouldn’t regret this. He needed to get it over with before he chickened out. 

Should he message everyone goodbye? He doubted he had time to type out each and every one of his friends a goodbye message, especially because both Tommy and Phil were close enough to reach him if he stalled for long enough. And knowing Tommy, he would probably run all the way here not even wasting time to listen to his parents. Phil would probably break several traffic laws on his way here too, he didn’t want to burden the man with a ticket over him. He decided it would be fine, and that they would just have to find out when his body was found. He vaguely remembered a suicide note he’d written a long time ago on his computer, if they couldn’t find his body they’d find that when he went missing, if anyone even noticed he was gone that is.

In a blur, he threw a leg over the railing. Why did they even bother with rails? It’s not like it was going to stop anyone. You could get by them really easily if you actually wanted too, it wasn’t like they were very tall. Even a little kid could get over them if no one was looking for long enough. He stopped for a moment to consider what he was doing. Was this really it? Was this how he was going to go? Wilbur Soot, going down because he was too _weak_ to grow up and face his problems like an adult. Well, it’s not like he could turn back now. He’s already here, he can’t back out now.

Just before he could throw his other leg over the railing, he heard something. A voice. A very _familiar_ voice.

“Wilbur..?”

He looked up to be met with wide, blue, eyes, filled with shock.

Blonde hair. 

Blue eyes.

Puffy blue jacket.

Red baseball tee.

_Shit._

He felt his heart drop to his stomach. ‘ _Why the fuck is he here? Shit shit shit shit_ -’

“Wilbur, wh-what are you doing..?” He heard a tremble in the usually loud confident voice, and felt sick knowing he was the one who caused it. He needed an excuse, and fast. What the hell could he say? Tommy may be young, but he’s not stupid. He could tell what was happening here. 

“I- I could ask you the sa-same thing! Why a-are you out he-here at three- three am!?” Wilbur tried to sound his usual confident persona, but failed with the way his voice trembled and cracked. Tommy recoiled a bit in surprise, putting his hands up defensively. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was going for a walk. I like how the moon looks at night from here..” That made sense. He briefly remembered Tommy mentioning it once, now that he thought about it. He stayed silent, not moving a muscle, but that didn’t stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks.

  
  


“You didn’t answer my question, what are you doing on the fuckin railing Wil?”

  
  


Wilbur stayed silent. Tommy didn’t need to be burdened with the things that he dealt with. Tommy didn’t accept that though, pushing further.

  
  


“Wilbur, please.. P-please get off the rail…”

  
  


Wilbur knew he wasn’t going to leave, he’d sit here all night if he had too, no matter how many calls he got from his parents, that’s just how Tommy was. He needed to make a decision, and he needed to make one now. Wilbur sighed and looked back up and met Tommy’s eyes.

“Jubilee Line.. You’ve heard it, right? You know the lyrics.. ‘There’s a reason London puts barriers on the tube lines, there’s a reason London puts barriers on the rails’, Yeah?” Tommy gulped, wondering where this was going. He nodded, blue eyes meeting brown. But, there was something different about those brown eyes... They didn’t look the same. Those weren’t the same chocolate brown eyes he’d seen before, filled with life and joy. They were so… dull, broken, hurt.. Wilbur spoke again, voice cracking slightly. “Do you know that reason, Tommy? It’s not a very happy one, no not at all..” Tommy, of course, knew the reason, he’d seen the news every time another person threw themselves under the tubes. Wilbur continued. “There’s another lyric in there too, you know, after that one. Do you know that lyric, Tommy?” 

  
  


_Oh. Oh no._

  
  


“It’s a lyric that always stuck with me. It’s true, too.” Wilbur chuckled, looking down at the water and shivering slightly for a moment. 

  
  


‘ _There’s a reason they... fail_.’ 

  
  


Wilbur met Tommy’s eyes once more, smiling sadly.

  
  


“Wil, w-wait, Wilbur please no, _Wi-Wilby please_ ..” Tommy was crying now, basically begging the man to get off the railing. Wilbur paused for a second. ‘ _No, you can’t cave now, don’t give in to that stupid nickname._ ’ Wilbur threw his other leg over, standing on the sliver of concrete on the other side of the railing with his hands on the rails so he didn’t fall yet. He looked up at Tommy again, smiling as the tears ran down his face. He spoke, his voice quiet and broken, barely being heard in the cold, still, night. 

  
  


_“I’m sorry, Tommy.”_

  
  


And with that, Wilbur threw himself off, hearing Tommy scream his name and seeing him run up to the railing trying to reach him, but failing, it sounded like he was listening from underwater though. Tommy had been too late. He wasn’t able to save him. The cops were called and Wilbur’s body was pulled from the water, but he was already gone. So many tears were shed that day, and the world lost a wonderful young man with most of his life still ahead of him. Wilbur Soot had finally lost his battle.

  
  
  


Tommy was never able to listen to Jubilee Line again after that night.


End file.
